


collapsible lung

by realbojangles



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Arson, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes, Theft, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realbojangles/pseuds/realbojangles
Summary: Corinna is a regular thief with a rough past. She's got dead family. Alive family. Family that doesn't give a shit about her anymore. And she's got a heist family—Gina Smith and Lin Wu. But when a heist is scooped out from under them, Corinna discovers that her past may not actually be that dead.





	1. Wishful Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> HI! Wow okay so this is a new story I've been tapping on. Not really planning many super big updates. I'll update as I go, and I'll try to get chapters out relatively quick. But, I'm terrible at it. So, if you want to encourage me or get me to write drabbles or do anything, hit me up at my tumblr -> [bobgiovannii](http://bobgiovannii.tumblr.com).

Corinna stepped out of the Cool Beans coffee shop sipping at her black coffee with a disinterested frown. She was wearing black again, a constant color (or lack thereof) in her closet. She wore a black v neck under a green army jacket with black jeans, black belt and black boots. The green jacket and the pink streak in her hair that was fading fast were the only colorful things on her that were changeable. Her eyes were a bright hazel, pretty and noticeable when you were looking right at her but not too distinguishable. It worked in her favor.

She drained the last of her coffee before tossing it in a bin next to her ride—a PCJ-600 colored (you guessed it) black. She didn’t bother with a helmet, kickstarting the bike before zipping off to her destination. The coffee was already starting to jumpstart her, and she sped up.

She wore gloves when she rode usually, but she’d left them at home which left the small tattoo on the inside of her wrist exposed. ‘TMB’ Everyone always wondered what it was about, but she’d never say. The ‘M’ was marginally bigger in the middle, simply because of what it stood for.

Her current heist coordinator, her gal in the chair as it were, had asked one night while they were planning their first job what the tattoo meant. Corinna just smiled and shook her head.  _That story is for another day and another time._

She’d bought it for the time being, and they’d been working together for 6 years now. Never been caught; neither of them. They were good crooks, and they’d been taught well. Both by their brothers, cradled into this life of crime. Corinna was going to tell Gina, her partner in crime, that night what that tattoo meant.

Naturally, Corinna was on edge. But there were other factors that contributed to her uneasiness. Number 1, they were going to rob a jewelry store tomorrow. Number 2, she was going to let loose her heart and soul.

She pulled up her bike to the inconspicuous office building before shuffling in past the men and women working in the open floor. She said her good mornings to everyone, waving at the workers as they waved back. She shifted inside the back office, blacked out windows leaving its contents a mystery to someone who hadn’t been there before.

“Gina!” Corinna said, a small smile crossing her face as she regarded her old friend. Gina was older than Corinna, a few years older than her brother would have been, but she didn’t look it. She was a native of Los Santos, so she grew up with the sun and a father who was a plastic surgeon. Albeit a plastic surgeon convicted of fraud and money laundering but a plastic surgeon nonetheless. So, she looked 10 years younger than her 52 years. Her skin was dark and smooth, a nice healthy glow making her shine bright in the dinky old office. She was wearing a dress, as she often did unless they were on a job, and her hair was natural, a nice cropped afro that was impossibly perfect.

On her desk, she had papers and all sorts of trinkets that were useless to her. But one item stood out to Corinna—a picture frame with three women on a pier. Gina, Corinna and their running buddy Lin. Lin was cheesing so hard that she couldn’t see anything, Gina was wide eyed, and Corinna wore her usual bright smile. They were three peas in a pod. Corinna loved that trip to Liberty City. Loved hanging with her girls, blowing the money they’d stolen for themselves.

“You nervous for tomorrow, Rin?” Gina asked, barely glancing up at Corinna as she sat in one of the plush yet boring office chairs.

“Nope! In fact, I’m pretty fuckin’ excited. There’s gotta be more than 4 mil in that store, and I’m thinking once we get everything marketable, the buyers are gonna scoop these puppies up faster than you can say Chattanooga.”

“Chattanooga,” Gina said dryly; then, she cracked a grin. They both laughed at that. It took a while, but Gina would always loosen up  _eventually_  for Corinna, given she was either in a good mood or ploughed with liquor.

“Come on Gina; let’s go get lunch and then head to the back.”

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

 

The two of them went out to lunch before retreating to a room  _behind_  Gina’s office where a tiny Asian woman was sleeping on one of the couches. Lin. Her normally straight black hair was a bit mussed up from sleep, so Corinna shook her awake.

“Where am I?”

“You’re back in Beijing. Wake up.”

That caused Lin to frown (she was wanted for a lot of things in Beijing: arson, armed robbery, burglary, jaywalking probably, tampering with Chinese politics, everything), and she stood up. Moving to the big round table facing a board with plans laid out on it, she yawned.

“You shouldn’t' joke about that; I might start yelling at you in Mandarin like last time.”

“I’ve been learning it by the way!” Corinna added, but Lin just raised her brows. “Wǒ lái shōushī.”

And Lin just burst out laughing. Her laughter was contagious, and Gina gave into the laughter despite not knowing what Corinna had said in her butchered Mandarin.

“Did you...did you mean to say that you’ll do the cleaning or bury the dead?” Lin asked through her tears. At that though, Corinna joined in on the cackling. They never got the answer to that question though because Gina’s phone rang before Corinna could provide.

“Smith here. Talk.” Lin and Corinna went silent while Gina spoke, their faces going serious when Gina’s brow furrowed. She hung up the phone a minute later before cursing softly.

“What’s up, G?”

“Someone else called Paige for that jewelry heist we were gonna do.”

“Vangelico’s?” Corinna asked before rolling her eyes. “Harris back out?”

“No, she didn’t back out; she just said someone else had put feelers out. Said they were doing it tomorrow.”

“Well, if they’re stealing it,” Lin started; “I don’t see why we can’t just...”

“Steal it out from under them,” Corinna resolved, a grin spreading on her lips. Lin mirrored her face.

Gina thought for a minute, her brow actually furrowing more. She looked pissed. Or annoyed. Both were appropriate for the time being. Of the three, Corinna was the  _most_  hot headed. She took after her family in that sense. Gina was the least. Lin didn’t even register on the hot headed scale. She was usually too chill to actually...get mad about something.

“Just go. Buy me something nice,” she teased, throwing her hands up. Rin laughed and accepted it, simply winking before exiting the building.

The walk to her bike wasn’t long, and she hopped on, just sitting there a moment. She had a bad feeling in her stomach, something she didn’t often have before any sort of job. It was disconcerting. She didn’t like it.

But either way, she rocketed off towards her apartment to get some rest. Big day tomorrow.

* * *

Gina didn’t normally wing things, but given the score and relative ease of the jewelry shop (not to mention her pride), she decided to absolutely wing this. She could do it. Her girls could do it. They didn’t need a hacker, just Corinna, Lin and Gina.

She sat with Corinna on a bench, waiting for the go ahead from Corinna who was running point at that time. Meanwhile, Lin sat outside, a few feet away in an inconspicuous black SUV. Corinna tweeted and randomly texted on her phone, casually waiting for the bug van to pull around the corner. That’s when they’d head in.

And around 10 minutes later, it did.

Corinna hopped up, still texting, and Gina followed behind her, both of them slipping into Vangelico’s with smiles, their hands intertwined. They stepped inside, browsing engagement rings, their palms sweating as they waited. Rin had a gun beneath her jacket, and Gina had a gun on her thigh. They were ready. They just had to wait.

Then, the gas came filtering through, and Corinna clamped a hand over her mouth. Gina didn’t in time, and so she crumpled to the floor. Rin did much the same, hoping to suck in a few more cleanish breaths to see who had knocked her out.

The voice she heard call through haunted her. She made sure to hide her face as she finally succumbed to the knockout gas. She couldn’t let him know she was here. Then again, she still wasn’t even sure he was alive.

* * *

The police wrapped Corinna in a blanket and let her sit in one of the ambulances since she seemed to be in shock. The thieves had gotten away with over 4 mil. Four million fucking dollars. Actually, over 4 million. Corinna was livid. She wouldn’t see a dime. 

Gina had already skipped out. She didn’t like crime scenes or ambulances. So, she hopped away when no one was looking. She was also slightly wanted by Vice City officials. Which, to be fair, so was Corinna. They’d almost been caught (but hadn’t) when they robbed three liquor stores and a bank while tripping on acid. It was...a night.

Lin hadn’t been with them that time. She was still mid-escape from Beijing. Still, she would have been useful on that run, no doubt. No doubt at all. 

Corinna stood up after a moment, leaving before the news cameras got there. She went around the back, dropping the blanket she’d been given and hopped on her bike that was underneath a sheet of black tarp.

She zipped through the city, trying her hardest not to have a giant fucking freak out. It wouldn’t do her any good; she knew that. But still, she had to calm herself down with easy breaths as she weaved in and out of cars and traffic.

She was headed towards La Mesa. Popular Street. If anyone would know, he would know. He somehow found Corinna even after she tried changing her name. She’d reverted back once he’d found her, just to make it easier. But he was good. He knew where people were. Somehow.

She pulled up to the factory, pushing open the doors and jogging up the stairs to his office. She pushed open the door, and there he was, sitting at his desk with a cane next to him. The office was dingy, and it was nothing special really. A lot of brown tones similar to the clothes he was wearing.

Darnell Bros. Factory was nothing special at all which made it a perfect safehouse.

“Lester...” Corinna started, but Lester spoke while she hesitated.

“Corinna Townley, to what do I owe the pleasure?”


	2. (Don't Fear) The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations. Friendships rekindled. Meth smoked. It's a wild ride in both Los Santos and Blaine County.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry this took so long i meant to have it out last week. Pardon THE BAD WRITING since I have a sinus infection and no time to edit. SO. I'm posting this at work lmao. If anyone wants to beta this writing lmk, hmu at my tumblr bobgiovannii. <3

Corinna stood in Lester’s office with a look of shock on her face. She had a few wrinkles here and there, and the furrow of her brows accentuated them quite well. She’d never been good with big news. Not necessarily bad news or good news. Just big news in general. 

Lester had just dropped a bomb on Corinna fucking Townley.

Corinna Townley, formerly of Vice City. Even more formerly of North Yankton. And extremely formerly of somewhere outside Carcer City. Daughter to Robert and Carla Townley. Sister to the not-so-late Michael Townley. 

“He’s alive?” She asked, her voice just barely over a whisper. Lester nodded and glanced away, almost as if he felt guilty. Corinna was too stunned to be mad at him. Yet. 

“What alias is he using? Harry Maxwell? Richard Hedland?”

“Michael De Santa.”

“I always hated that fucking alias. Are Mandy and the kids with him?” Hope managed to leak into her voice, betraying how close she had been to Amanda and her children. She remembered watching Tracey take her first steps. Remembered Jimmy showing her his LEGOs. She hadn’t seen them since…since Michael allegedly died. His funeral happened, and then, she needed a change of scenery.

Left North Yankton without a trace. Corinna had nothing holding her there and left for Vice City. It was there she’d met Gina, and their friendship was set. They worked so well together that Rin managed to forget her own brother’s death. It wasn’t gone completely. There were times that she would hold up a guy in his mid 30s that looked like Michael, and that’d spin her into another fit of sadness and loneliness. Loneliness that could have been fixed one of two ways. One: Michael had filled her in on his plans. Or Two-

“Yes. Yes. Amanda, Tracey and Jimmy are with him.”

Corinna just stared at her friend, eyes watering and blurring her vision. “And you knew this whole fucking time.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t even deign to answer, glancing down at his feet and the place where his cane met the concrete floor.

“Of course, you fucking did. Of course. How foolish of me to think that my own brother would tell me he was faking his death. And Brad? Where’s he?”

“In your brother’s grave.”

Her fist connected with Lester’s jaw, and she started out. “Fucking  **unbelievable**. Un-fucking-believable!”  She stomped out of the garment factory towards her bike. She buried her face in her hands. Michael De Santa was alive. Fuck.

* * *

Michael De Santa was not a happy man, and even with $2,000,000 dollars paid off to Martin Madrazo, he felt no better. There was a little bit of an adrenaline rush to his newly acquired money and his new friends. Franklin had turned out to be invaluable. Way better than Brad and-

“Michael!” The voice that called for him was shrill and annoying. Must have been his wife.

“Yes,  _dear_?” He called back, pouring a couple fucking fingers of whiskey in a clear tumbler. This had been his life for 10 years now, and it was absolutely fucking exhausting. He missed his old life. Namely, he missed his sister, Corinna. She was always a grounding agent for him. They’d been running scams since they were little. She started right alongside him with stealing from the general stores around town. Snickers and the occasional Walkman right after they’d come out. 

“Kyle and I are going to get smoothies!” She called, and that only caused Michael to roll his eyes. It was more likely that she was going to suck him off in the bathroom at whatever establishment they chose. Pissed him off, but he had not proof yet. He’d bitch about it later.

He drank his whiskey still, reminiscing on his sister and how much he missed her. He wondered if she was still in North Yankton or if she’d gone back to Carcer City. He liked to imagine her on a beach somewhere in Vice City. Maybe even sitting in her own apartment in Liberty City. Then again, he doubted that. She was addicted to the life, same as him. And usually people didn’t get the out that he got from his gracious overlords up at the FIB.

He knew most of his questions could have been solved with a simple LifeInvader search, but he was...dare he say it? Nervous? Scared that she’d somehow know? He pulled out his phone and went to the LifeInvader app, and his thumb hovered over the search bar for a moment. Maybe he should just...

“Uhh, Michael...” His wife’s voice was less angry now, trepidation in her voice. What was it now? He didn’t stand up from his place on the couch, shouting out at her.

“WHAT!”

“You might need to come in here.” She didn’t spar back. Something was wrong. He leaped to attention, grabbing the pistol beneath his couch and rushing towards the door. What he saw made him drop the gun, a loud thunk hitting the marble flooring that his wife had insisted on.

“Shit.”

* * *

Corinna stared him down, her fists clenched at her side. Lo and behold, there he was. Her fucking brother, standing there alive and in person. Perfectly fine without a scratch on his shitty head. Sorry bastard.

There were a million different things Corinna wanted to do. On one hand, she wanted to punch the ever-living  _shit_  out of her brother. Just really lay into him until he really did have a scratch or 47 on his shitty head. On the other, she wanted to cry and hug him and tell him how much she missed him. One won out over the other, and she walked towards him, both of them too stunned to say anything else.

Then, she socked him in the mouth. Just like that. One quick punch and he was stunned, stumbling back on to the stairs. She’d been making a habit of punching men who disappointed her. She didn’t seem to be giving it up anytime soon. Her hands ached and throbbed but not from the punches. Her blood pressure was high, and her heart was pounding in her chest. It kinda hurt.

“You  _son of a bitch_!” Corinna didn’t recognize her own voice; it was so angry and offended. Gravely, but she’d revel in that later.

Michael stared at his sister, wondering all sorts of things. When did she get into Los Santos? How long had she been in Los Santos? Had he seen her on the street and not known? Would she ever be able to forgive him? Keep his secret? Stay out of trouble? Didn’t seem so.

“I thought you were dead!”

“Well, I’m not.” His answer was dumb; he knew that. Amanda scoffed at her husband’s response before turning to her tennis “coach”, Kyle. She said something softly to him, and he left, eyes wide at how Corinna was behaving.

Amanda, always friends with Corinna even before she and Michael had started dating, moved to take Rin’s hand, soothing her with a hand on her back. Looking to her left, Corinna searched her friend’s eyes for any inch of remorse, and she surprisingly found some. Relenting to Amanda’s gentle touch, she let herself be led into the kitchen where Amanda proceeded to fix up some tea.

“I remember you always liked green tea,” Amanda said.

“Yeah.”

“Still that way?”

“Yeah.” Corinna noticed her voice and how far away it sounded, and she noted her fists clenched at her side. She was still angry.

“Michael, go out and get us some Burger Shot.”

“Amanda, she’s my-”

“ _Michael. Now._ ”

He didn’t argue much after that, angrily grabbing his keys and escaping the tense house to get the girls their burgers. Amanda served up Corinna’s tea, placing the warm mug in her trembling hands. Amanda had hardened in her years away from North Yankton. She’d hardened after Michael’d pretended to die. She went with him. She loved him. However, the separation took its toll on her, especially being forced to leave her sister-in-law, who felt more like a sister by blood, behind. Amanda still wished she’d told Michael no and kept the kids in North Yankton where they could have grown up normal without all of...this.

Corinna wrapped her arms around Amanda, and they two women were reconciled in that moment. Corinna still wanted to punch the shit out of Michael. For Brad. For dying.  For everything getting so colossally fucked.

“How are Tracey and Jimmy?” Corinna breathed. “Tracey still as gorgeous as ever?”

Amanda laughed. “She’s blonde now.”

“I like it. Just like Mama Townley. Bet Michael was pissed she decided to do that.”

Amanda’s laugh was soft but genuine, followed by a nod. Michael was pissed about most things, and Tracey’s hair was one of many. The women stood in silence for a moment, Corinna drinking her tea and Amanda watching her with a sad smile.

“Sorry about leaving. I wanted Michael to let you in, but he said you’re too conspicuous. I just think you’d call him out on his shit. Plus, he thought you and-”

“Please don’t say his name,” Rin said softly into her tea, and Amanda closed her mouth for a moment before prodding more.

“I take it he didn’t come back?”

Corinna shook her head and downed the rest of her tea. “Where’s your bathroom?” She asked before simply going to search for it. Amanda called out where it was after she left, a worried look on her face. She was worried about her husband, and she was worried for her sister in law. They were both too stubborn and too unpredictable. This was going to end poorly.

* * *

“This other guy runs out the shop and pushes me over and says something like "You forget thousands of things every day. You make sure this is one of 'em." that was pretty scary.”

Trevor Philips stared at the screen with one Ashley Butler beneath him. She was wailing and moaning, but Trevor didn’t care, pulling away and yanking up his drawers. His face drew into a deep frown, the mustache covering his dirty, patchy face moving with his lips.

“You wanna get lit now, sugar?” Ashley, the blonde who Trevor had been...ah...entangled with said. “Tr-Trevor, baby, you wanna, you wanna smoke up now?” She asked again, even more unsure as Trevor began stalking towards his trailer door.

To be fair, Trevor Philips always  _stalked_. It wasn’t so much of a walk as it was a strut. He always had some place to be, and it showed in his walk. It was intentional. Not necessarily a  _soldier’s_  strut but one very similar.

“Trevor! You been with my girl again?” The voice that invaded Trevor’s thoughts was fucking dumb. Real fucking dumb. So dumb that he just ignored it even more. Trevor couldn’t believe in. Couldn’t believe that he’d been so  _betrayed._ That he’d been  _lied_  to.

_You lied too, Trevor,_  a voice in his head spoke. For some reason, that voice of conscience, faint but present, always sounded like her. He wouldn’t mind seeing  _her_  again. He had lied. He’d lied real bad. But that wasn’t the fucking point! Trevor had been lied to  _ultra bad_  which outranked ‘ _real_ _bad’_. 

“I'm speaking with you, asshole,” the dumb voice continued to shout—sounded like that fuck face Johnny. Trevor continued to ignore him.

“Don't do it, Johnny. I told him, Trevor. I told him.” Ron. Paranoid and frightened to the bitter end, no doubt.

“We all get high! But that don't make it right. Not what you've done with me.”  _Johnny._

“Leave it, Johnny. Leave it.”  **Ashley.**

“I'm telling you, Johnny, leave it.”  ** _Ron._**

“I ain't leaving nothin'. Trevor! I'm talking to you, motherfucker.”

That was when Trevor stopped. “Are you? What are you sayin'?”

Johnny had the fear of god in him at that point, and in Blaine County, Trevor Philips counted as god. Or at least, his wrath was comparable to God’s. He most defintely had plenty of wrath, and the only time you really needed to be scared of him (other than 24/7) was when he was  _quiet_. When he was still. Because Trevor Philips, when he was still, always pounced. Like motherfucking lightning.

“Fucking my girl, man. It's wrong.”

Trevor turned, brows raised as though this was new information. Oh? It was  _wrong_  now, was it? “Well, I got to fuck someone. You want me to fuck you instead? Is that the problem here? Take off your pants, cowboy, alright? Lets, let's  _fuck_.” Trevor grabbed between his legs, holding on to what God had given him. The closer he got to Johnny, the more he retreated.

“You think this is f-funny?” Johnny asked, fear in his eyes. 

“Get them  _off_!”

It was a clusterfuck after that. Ron, his second in command, Wade, his loveable sidekick, and Ashley, the damsel in alleged distress came over after that, seeing the point where they needed to intervene. Oh, but Johnny had already sealed his fate. Trevor hadn’t decided how. But he had decided.

“I told him to leave it, Trevor. I told him. Leave it. Leave it,” Ron insisted. Trevor never really understood why Ron would try and  _prevent_  Trevor’s outbursts. At least they never really happened to Ron, hence Ron’s living and being alive. Really, he should be grateful.

“Shut  _up_ , Ron. I'm about to fuck me a meth head, ain't I, cowboy? Get my boy sucked from his toothless gums.” Trevor pushed his sweatpants down, almost pushing the waistband of his tightie whities down when Johnny spat his vitriol at Trevor  _again._  Man really didn’t know when to shut up.

“Fuck you, Trevor. I still love her.”

“ _Oh._ ” Trevor’s voice had gone soft. “Alright, cowboy. Hey, I know. Hey, c'mon. Shh... hey...” Trevor pulled his pants up, slowly making his way to  _sweet_  little Johnny boy, soothing and comforting him.

“I don't mean nothing by it, man. I just. I just...”

“I know, cowboy.”

“I messed up.”

“I know. I know. Gimme a hug, cowboy.” And as Johnny opened his arms to embrace Trevor, Trevor grabbed him by the throat, squeezing to the point that Johnny let out a  _haunting_  gag. His back screamed in pain when Trevor slammed him into the sand, clouds of the shit puffing up when he hit the ground.  He didn’t get to beg for his life. Not even once before Trevor stomped down hard on his head. Again and again and again. Blood gushing from all the brain bits spattered everywhere.

“Fucking shit!!! Cunt! Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!”

Then, Trevor Philips blacked out.

* * *

 

When Trevor awoke from his blind rampage, he awoke driving with Ron next to him and Wade in the back. He must have done something wild since Ron looked quite frightened. Very frightened, but then again, it  _was_  Ronald.

“Ughh... This is an unprecedented turn of events,” Ron said, eyes nervously sliding over to look at Trevor who was driving increasingly faster.

“I always said I was gonna take over,” T replied, as though that justified...whatever happened back there. He vaguely remembered murdering someone?

“People say all kinds of stuff when they're three days into a smoking party.”

“ _You calling me a_ ** _bullshitter_** _, friend?_ ”

“Clearly not! No way! You're a man of your word. As evidenced by said events.”

“If I say something is going to happen, it's going to. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but as soon as the moment is opportune.”

“Yes si-”

“If I say, I'm  _fucking_ **dead** , then fucking dead I am. I'm not going to raise my balding head on a beach in ten years' time saying all is well!”

“Is this about the ghost?” Ron asked, voice timid.

“Michael fucking Townley. Yes it is.”

“You told me about him. Your old running buddy. And who were the other two?”

“Brad was one. He's looked up in a Federal penitentiary. When he finds out Michael survived that job...”

“Yeah...” Ron frowned, noting Trevor’s avoidance of the question. Who was the mysterious other running buddy? Ron could have  _sworn_  Trev had told him who they were.

“What do you think happened?” Ron continued, letting Trevor keep his secrets. Mostly because if Ron pried, Trevor might murder him. Literally.

“If I knew what happened, I wouldn't be bemoaning these last ten years I've spend in ignorance.”

“Some say ignorance is bliss.”

Trevor glanced over at Ron, despite you know,  _driving_ , and he frowned. “For a man with an interest, some may say obsession, with the secret truth kept hidden behind historical events, that's a really weird thing to say.”

“I was trying to console you.”

Trevor let out a loud growling shout and slammed his brakes on when they reached his out. “I don't need consolation. I need answers from that fat chump! Now get out of the car Ron. I need time to think.”

When Ron didn’t move, Trevor pulled out his gun. That at least got him going. “Urgh! RUN!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOO DramA
> 
> Leave comments & kudos! They feed the monster in my closet that makes me write.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that! Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment or kudos! They really keep my enthusiasm up!


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